Like Father, Like Son
by frenchhornfreak
Summary: Post AWE. Will comes home from work to find that Elizabeth has been cooking. Oneshot


**Disclaimer: **Once upon a time, there were two intelligent and creative wizards named Ted and Terry. They were powerful wizards residing in the Movie Kingdom, and using their mighty magic, they created some AWESOME characters that eventually turned into a multi-million dollar movie trilogy and franchise. There was also a peasant in the small, neighboring village of Fanfiction, named Frenchhornfreak, who was hopelessly obsessed with the trilogy and enjoyed writing. One day, the peasant wished upon a star that she could own Will, Elizabeth, William Turner III, Jack, and all of their friends (and enemies, too). But, alas, her story was not created by Disney, she didn't have singing pet mice that helped clean her room, and wishes on stars rarely came true. While all the princesses and princes lived happily ever after in the Movie Kingdom, Frenchhornfreak continued writing about characters that she had to borrow from more important people. The end…for now. (Moral of the story: I don't own Pirates)

Now, on to the story!

* * *

The scent was invigorating. Heavenly. Delicious. William Turner knew it had been many years since he had smelled it, and boy, had he missed it. He strolled along the worn path that lead almost directly from the smithy to his house, the sun beating down on him, mouth watering. 

He could almost taste them. Almost.

As he approached his front door, he smiled in delight. The blissful scent was coming from _his_ house. He closed his eyes, taking it in, savoring it, before pushing the door open.

"Elizabeth, I'm home!" he yelled, noticing the absence of his wife from his line of vision.

"I'm in the kitchen," her reply resonated off the crème colored walls in the entryway.

He followed his nose to the kitchen, the wonderful scent still hovering in the warm air. Entering the kitchen, he smiled at the sight of his beautiful wife baking. Her back was towards him, but he could still see her flour-covered hands deftly kneading the dough he expected was for bread. Glancing at the counter, he saw the source of the torturous smell: a plate of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. From the smell of them, they had just left the oven not minutes before. His smile grew as he racked his brain, trying to remember the last time he had the delicious food. He had been very young the last time he had chocolate chip cookies, that was for sure. His mother used to make them for him, before she fell ill, and he couldn't recall a time after that. So tempting… they looked as delicious as they smelled. He reached out to take one, but stopped as he heard Elizabeth's imposing voice.

"William Turner, don't touch those cookies!" she reprimanded, turning to face her husband, a cheeky smile gracing her rosy lips. "They're for after dinner," she explained. He looked at her, utter disbelief evident on his face.

"I swear, love, you have eyes in the back of your head," he joked, chuckling and pulling her to him for a kiss, taking in the wonderful smell that was his Elizabeth, but his stomach (and nose) got the better of him. His tongue darted into her mouth before he chuckled again and pulled away, his lungs begging for air and his stomach begging for a cookie. "Yet, I see that _you_ have had a cookie already," he teased, watching Elizabeth's face flush a bit.

"I did not!" she answered indignantly, but seeing the look on her husband's face, she changed her answer.

"Fine. I had some cookie dough that was left in the bowl after I was done baking." She watched as Will's eyes lit up with amusement. "Father used to let me have some when we made cookies, and it looked good…" she trailed off. Will smiled teasingly at her and wiped a smudge of flour off her tanned face.

"How did you know?" she questioned wonderingly.

Will mimicked the cheeky smile she had worn earlier and replied, "You tasted like chocolate."

Elizabeth giggled, placing a short kiss on Will's cheek. "Go wash up, Will. Dinner will be ready soon."

* * *

No more than five minutes later, another person was drawn in to the scrumptious scent. William Jonathan Turner III, or Liam, as he was affectionately nicknamed, knew it had been many months since he had smelled it, and, boy, had he missed it. He half-skipped down the worn path that lead almost directly from his friend Andrew's house to his, the sun beating down on him, mouth watering. 

He could taste them, the chocolate melting in his mouth. Delicious.

As he approached his front door, he smiled his adorable nine-year-old smile in excitement. The chocolatey smell was coming from _his_ house. He closed his eyes in anticipation before pushing the door open.

"Mum, I'm home!" he yelled, still savoring the smell of the cookies.

"I'm in the kitchen!" the reply echoed again in the entryway.

His nose seemed to take control of his legs as he ran into the kitchen, immediately spying the plate of freshly baked cookies on the countertop. His smile lit up even more as he remembered the last time he had his mother's cookies. Every year on his birthday, his mum would make her delectable chocolate chip cookies to celebrate. They were normally for special occasions, so it was not often he got his favorite food. Liam wondered what the occasion was today, but this thought did not linger in his mind for long. So temping… they looked as delicious as they smelled. He reached out to take one, but stopped as he heard his mother's commanding voice.

"William Turner, don't touch those cookies!" she chastised, turning to face her son, a small smirk playing on her lips. _Like father, like son,_ she thought to herself in amusement. "They're for after dinner, hon," she explained. He looked at her, his toffee-colored eyes wide, pleading with her silently.

"But Mum…" he trailed off, a small pout starting to form on his small face.

_Oh no, not the puppy face, _Elizabeth thought, watching her son's pout grow. _He really is the splitting image of his father. Except for that pout, _she smiled, amused. _He got that pout from me._

Adding a more helpless look to the ensemble, Liam waited for his mother to break. He knew it was coming. She couldn't stand the puppy face.

"Fine. But a small one, Liam. I don't want you to ruin your dinner!" Elizabeth finally gave in. A smile replaced the pout on his adorable face as his hand darted to the plate. He pulled it towards his mouth, the smell intensifying, and he took a bite. It melted almost immediately, the taste engulfing his entire mouth, and he let it sit there, savoring the wonderful morsel.

Liam's mind wandered back to the question he had earlier, and he swallowed in preparation to talk (his mother had taught him his manners, even though he insisted that pirates had no need for them). "Why did you make cookies, Mum? They're normally for special occasions," he asked.

"It is a special occasion," Elizabeth replied. Seeing the questioning look in her son's eyes, she continued. "We're celebrating the day I met your father."

Liam's eyes lit up, remembering the story his mother had told him. "Oh yeah! The day you rescued him in the ocean! On the crossing from England!"

Elizabeth smiled warmly at her only son, her little miracle. "You have a wonderful memory," she told him, ruffling his curly brown hair and watching as he started to take another bite of his cookie. She stopped him, her thin hand holding onto his wrist.

"Liam, about this cookie," Elizabeth started seriously, looking her son in the eyes, "Don't tell your father." She smirked as Liam nodded hastily in agreement before divulging in his prize again.

"Don't tell your father what?" she heard a voice ask. Elizabeth looked up to find Will entering the kitchen. He eyed his son, who was contentedly enjoying his cookie. "Hey, how come he gets one and I don't?" he asked, feigning hurt. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

Will approached the plate of cookies, grabbing one and attempting to bite into it, but a hand stopped him. He looked up and saw his wife for only a moment before she swept him in for a kiss. Dropping the cookie back on the plate, he took Elizabeth's lithe frame in his arms, sighing softly into her mouth.

On the other side of the counter, Liam crinkled his nose in disgust at his parent's display of affection. "Eww," he muttered, taking his cookie and running into another room. Will laughed softly against Elizabeth's mouth as he heard the muffled _shuffle shuffle_ of his son's feet running from the kitchen. The plate of cookies lay forgotten on the counter as he pulled back slightly, giving both himself and Elizabeth time for a quick breath before connecting his lips with hers again.

As he deepened the kiss, a smell reached his nose that was a million times better than cookies: his Elizabeth. The scent was invigorating. Heavenly. Delicious. William Turner knew it had been only minutes since he had last smelled it, but, boy, had he missed it.

* * *

A/N: So there we go... let's just say that I really want to go bake some cookies now. Ohhh...and by the way, this story is dedicated to my bestest friend in the universe, Bethany aka Numbuh 212, and also all the people who have reviewed or even read any of my past works. If I brighten just one person's day, I'll feel accomplished. 


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